


More Than You Think You Are

by mggislife2789



Category: Criminal Minds, Spencer Reid - Fandom
Genre: Depression, F/M, Panic Attacks, Suicide mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 10:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8202815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mggislife2789/pseuds/mggislife2789
Summary: Spencer and the reader have been friends for a while, when he starts to notice a change in her behavior.Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or their original stories. This is only for fun. It's where my brain goes after the credits roll. No copyright intended. Better safe than sorry. ;)





	

The girl who always took his order at the local coffee shop, Y/N, was always cheery, smiling and pleasant to all of her customers, but she and Spencer had hit it off when he complimented her Doctor Who sneakers. Ever since then, he would go get his coffee just before her break so they could talk. It had been that way for nearly two years.

But recently, something had changed. He was perceptive sure - he was a profiler after all, but he couldn’t put his finger on why she was behaving differently. She never smiled anymore. She was much less friendly with her other customers; she snapped at her co-workers and she always looked like she was on the verge of crying. His most educated guess said she was depressed, but he wasn’t sure why - and he wanted to know. She was so sweet, funny, kind, smart and exceedingly unique; she was the last person he would’ve expected would be depressed.

He wanted to see if he could figure out what was wrong with Y/N and if there was anything he could do to help, so he decided to ask her to dinner later in the week.

Spencer walked into the coffee shop at the same time he did every day and saw her - her eyes were drawn, her skin was dry and sallow, and it looked like she hadn’t smiled in days. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Spencer said, approaching the counter with hope that he could make her smile.

The corners of her mouth turned up into a slight smile as she caught sight of him. “Hey, Spencer, the usual?”

He smiled wide, “Yes, please!” She got to putting together his order and while she was pouring insane amounts of sugar into his coffee, he continued, “I have to leave on a case in about an hour, so I can’t stay today, but I was wondering if maybe you’d like to have dinner when I come back. That way we can talk without you having to go back to work.”

She hesitated, like she wasn’t sure of her plans for the week, but she turned to him and handed him his coffee. “That sounds really nice, Spencer,” she said the lightness in her voice slightly forced, “Call me when you get back?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, “I’ll see you when I get back.”

————————-

Spencer had had a hell of a week on the case, but thankfully, they had been able to return the young girl to her family relatively unharmed. He was very much looking forward to dinner with Y/N. He’d called as he was leaving the plane, eager for some human interaction that wasn’t related to work - and she’s agreed to meet at an Italian restaurant in between both of your apartments in about two hours.

————————-

Y/N was getting ready to go out, panicking over what to wear. Was this a date? Were they just friends? The place wasn’t fancy, but if it was a date, she felt like she should dress up. But if it wasn’t a date and she did dress up then she’d feel like a fool. She always felt that way and she didn’t think she could stand feeling that way in front of Spencer. He was one of the few people in her life that had no clue how screwed up she really felt, and if he ever figured it out, she was afraid he’d walk away from her, like so many of her “friends” had done before. Before walking out the door to walk to the restaurant, she decided on a pair of dark-wash tight jeans and a slouchy purple top. As she walked out of the apartment, she fought the urge to call him and cancel, considering this wasn’t even her plan for tonight anyway.

————————-

When Spencer got to the restaurant, he realized he was the first one there and decided to go in and get a table. Minutes later, Y/N walked in, looking casual and beautiful in dark jeans and a purple top. Until she met his gaze, her smile was nonexistent, but a shy one immediately formed on her face as she saw him.

“Hi, Spencer,” she said, sitting across from him. “How did the case go?”

“It was hectic and crazy, but thankfully we were able to get the little girl back home to her family with just some cuts and bruises,” he rambled in one long breath. 

“That’s amazing, Spencer,” she praised. “You seem to be doing amazing work.”

“I do love what I do, Y/N,” he replied. After the effusive praise, Y/N had looked down at the table, somewhat sadly, as if she was sad at her place in the world. “How was work for you this week?”

She shrugged, “You know. It’s a coffee shop. Same old, same old - and you weren’t there to make me smile, so it felt extra long.” She hesitated, wanting to tell someone about her utter unhappiness, but she held back.

“Y/N,” he comforted, reaching out to touch her hand, something he didn’t do often, “If there’s something you want to talk about, I hope you know I’m here to listen.”

She shrugged again, not feeling like she should unload her horrible opinions of herself and her crippling depression onto someone so sweet, but he squeezed her hand, and in that moment she felt like he truly cared. “It’s not one thing, Spencer, it’s just…” she reached back behind her head to gather her hair in a ponytail, a nervous habit, “I know so many people, including you, who are doing what they love and they feel like they should be doing, and here I am, at my age, working in a coffee shop because I can’t find a job in my field.”

When she looked up, she saw Spencer staring intently back at her, so she continued, “I don’t even know if I want a job in my field. I don’t have a passion for anything, you know? I just…”

Talking about this with someone who knew nothing of her true self was making her unbelievably anxious. Her hands were clammy, she was starting to shake and it was hard to get a deep breath. “I just…I…I don’t have anyone. My family lives on the other side of the country, I have a roommate, but we’re not friends, and any friends I’ve had in the past have walked away from me…”

She started to cry, immediately apologizing for doing so in front of him. “It’s okay, Y/N. I asked. And I asked because I felt there was something wrong and I want to make it better.”

“I just makes me think if there’s something wrong with me. Am I stupid? Am I not nice enough? And then my thoughts spiral and the next thing you know I’m looking in the mirror contemplating my ugliness and go to sleep feeling like I’m going to die alone.” As those last words fell from her mouth, her head shot up, as if she didn’t realize what she was saying until she actually said it. At that point, she started hyperventilating, clasped her hands over mouth and apologized again. “Spencer, I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to unload all of my shit on you, you were just being nice and now I’ve ruined our catch-up dinner. I should just go.”

He reached across the table to grasp her wrist. “Please don’t,” he pleaded. “Sit.”

She did as he asked, even though she was still crying and barely able to breathe. “Just look at me and breathe. In through your nose and out through your mouth,” he instructed, wanting to coach her through this - the doctor in him, he supposed.

Three or four cleansing breaths and the crying had stopped. She continued per his instructions and the shaking subsided and the clamminess in her hands ceased. Having someone there during one of her panic attacks was actually strangely helpful - at least it was with him. He was very soothing. She inhaled deeply one more time before addressing him again, “Thank you, Spencer. It feels really nice to know that someone might actually care. I don’t really feel that way anymore, actually…”

“What?” he asked at her hesitation. “No matter what your brain is telling you, there are people around you who care and I do. You have my phone number. If you ever need me to talk you through one of your panic attacks, I’m here.” His left hand joined the right, which was still firmly grasping your hand. “Was there something else? You hesitated.”

“I just…” she shook, wondering if what she was about to say was something that should be said out loud, but he said he cared and she so desperately wanted to believe him, so she continued, “Remember when you asked me to dinner earlier in the week and I hesitated at first?”

“Yea,” he responded, nodding his head.

“I hesitated because I didn’t think I was going to be here…alive. I was thinking about…suicide.” She looked down at her hands and nearly started to cry again, but she kept it together, already feeling ashamed. She did’t want to compound the already awkward-feeling situation with more crying.

“Y/N, don’t. Please. Talk to someone - a doctor. I don’t want to lose you,” he begged, squeezing her hands even more.

“Why? Why do you care?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“You are worth so much more than you think you are, Y/N, and I really like you. Your kind, funny, smart, beautiful.”

“You really think so, Spencer?”

“I do. So will you at least think about getting help? I can give you the names of some doctors if you need help with that,” he said.

“People always think that if you’re depressed you can just snap yourself out of it, or that you want to be that way. I have hope - I just want it to stay for more than a few fleeting seconds. I do want to go to someone. I guess up until now, I didn’t feel like anyone would miss me. I promise I’ll go,” she breathed, relieved that someone knew her deep, dark secret and hadn’t run screaming for the hills. “And Spencer,” she said quietly, “I really like you too. I can’t thank you enough.”


End file.
